Impressing John Watson
by SiriuslyJohnlocked
Summary: Where, exactly, did Sherlock learn to ride a motorbike? (Short one-chap, Teen!lock)


Sherlock took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, his biology homework laying abandoned on the ground beside his bed.

_Alright, Sherlock, __**think.**_

Thinking. That's what he did best, wasn't it? Or so he thought. Ever since John Watson had come into his life, it seemed that was an issue...one he needed to overcome if he was ever going to impress the blonde teenager. He groaned and threw himself onto his bed, sprawled out with one of his legs dangling carelessly over the edge as he stared up at the ceiling, wishing for all the world that emotions either didn't exist or were as simple and straightforward as the rest of the world.

As it was, they weren't. Science was theories and words and images and _reality._ Math was facts. History was proof. Even goddamn astronomy, which he knew nothing about, was _tangible._ Emotions weren't. All that Sherlock knew was that when John was around, an amount of blood far higher than average rushed to his face, that when he met John's deep blue eyes his breath hitched in his chest and his heart skipped a beat as if in preparation for the racing that followed. It wasn't fair, it wasn't. He was just a _freak_ and John would never want him, not unless he did something to sweep him off his feet. It wasn't as if he could just get on a stallion and come riding up to him like in the books, the ones that he spent his life reading and desperately wishing he could live in, hide in, be accepted by his favorite places and stories and characters.

He glanced over to his forgotten book then, because he still loved reading, he always would, but he didn't _need _it anymore, because John made reality okay.

And that's when the idea came to him. No, he didn't have any stallions available, but what he did have was his brother's popular boyfriend and access to the boy's motorbike. John liked danger, excitement...that much Sherlock knew for sure. He scrambled for his phone, which had been laying silently on his bedside table.

**Greg? SH**

A second. A minute. Two. _Answer, dammit,_ Sherlock thought, groaning in impatience and huffing, sulking for all of five minutes when his phone finally went off.

**Present, mate. Something wrong? GL**

**John Watson. SH**

**I know him, yeah. Nice bloke. What about him, is he alright? GL**

**Hopefully more than. Listen, I need to borrow your motorbike. SH**

**My...what? Why? GL**

**Reasons. SH**

**What's this got to do with John, Sherlock? GL**

**Bring it to me, Greg. Please. SH**

**...Wait. You don't seriously... GL**

**Yes. Please. SH**

**Fine. Don't tell Mycroft I'm doing this, he'd kill me. I'll leave the keys on the seat in front of my house, yeah? You can come pick it up. GL**

**Thank you. SH**

Now to figure out how to ride it. Sherlock shrugged, humming a little in thought. It couldn't be _that _hard, could it? At least, he hoped not. Either way, he needed John Watson, so he didn't hesitate to throw on his coat and scarf and race out the door. He practically ran the whole way to Greg's house, scooping up the keys and starting the bike. He climbed onto it as smoothly as he could, sighing and deciding that helmet probably was a good idea, even if his hair would be hell to deal with later. He'd never ridden before, after all, but he knew the basics from a time he'd got bored and read one of Greg's magazines. Most of it was dull, but at least he had a bit of knowledge to go off of, now. He took a deep breath, slowly pulling out into the thankfully nearly abandoned road.

He messed up a few times, obviously, but once he felt himself getting used to the bike he felt a mischievous grin come to his lips, speeding around Greg's neighborhood and testing swerves and turns until he was sure he had a handle on it well enough that John would be safe. He swallowed nervously but left the neighborhood, starting the journey to John's house.

The trip there was mostly without incident, although Sherlock had hit a curb in the beginning, to be fair. Once he was outside, he pulled out his mobile with ease.

**Outside. SH**

Sherlock smiled when his phone went off again almost immediately. John was always good about responding to him.

**What? JW**

**Outside. Your house. Just come out here. SH**

**You're **_**at my house? **_**JW**

**Problem? SH**

**No, just...Christ, okay. JW**

Sherlock grinned to himself, adjusting his gloved hands on the handles of the bike as he waited for John, who came out just moments later, hands in his pockets as he shut the door behind himself. Sherlock had to bite back a laugh when John turned around to face him, catching sight of the bike with widened eyes. Sherlock slid off the helmet, holding it with the hand farthest from John and grinning at him.

"I heard you like danger," he said coolly, a sly glint in his eyes. "Wanna come on an adventure?"

"Jesus, Sherlock..." John breathed, admiring the bike. He assumed it wasn't Sherlock's, but he wasn't sure he'd seen it before. It was a brilliant one regardless. He looked up at him in confusion a moment later, blue eyes locking with Sherlock's impossible ones. "Did you...did you do this for me?"

Sherlock smiled at that, shrugging slightly and ruffling his own wild hair. "Guilty as charged."

John opened his mouth to reply, but ended up just shaking his head in disbelief, stepping closer. "Why?" He asked softly.

"Because I'm all science and facts and deductions. And you like excitement, so I'm giving you what you like because..." He looked down then, blushing. "Because I want you to like me. I know we're friends, but...that's not necessarily what I mean." He admitted, the last part coming out rushed, getting it out before he could stop himself again.

John fell silent for a long moment, blinking in shock. "...Oh," was all he said, before grinning widely with a bright laugh. "You idiot. I _do_ 'like' you, but not because you showed up on some mechanical stallion for me, I like that you're science and facts and deductions. It makes you Sherlock."

Before Sherlock could even come up with a response, there was a foreign pressure crashing down on his lips, and it took him a second to even register that the pressure was coming from John's own mouth. When the blonde pulled back, Sherlock was left speechless, a truly major accomplishment. "You..." He started, trailing off.

"Me." John teased, still smiling as he got on the back of the bike and wound his arms around Sherlock's waist, his chin resting on the other's shoulder. "Now how about we go on that adventure?"

Sherlock chuckled happily, rolling his eyes. "Whatever you say, my Hobbit." He told him, turning his head to peck his cheek and smiling.

"Oh, come on. You're barely taller than me!"

"Yes, but I'll keep growing. You're done," Sherlock grinned mischievously. "I'll be a dragon compared to you by the time I'm finished."

John let out a groan, jabbing him in the ribs. "Oh, come on," He sighed. "Let's go then, you dangerous dragon, you."

"Gladly."


End file.
